TM:MFN
by MFNOmega
Summary: A complete comedy rewrite of the Matrix final script, as seen onscreen. Created for, and cast as, members of www.matrixfans.net and its forums. Rated PG-13 for language, only as severe as that found in the actual movie.


First, if you are not a resident of MFN, you should know that a large portion of this is based on inside jokes between posters at the www.matrixfans.net forums, though it can still be enjoyed otherwise.  Second, if you are a Wachowski, Joel Silver, or a WB executive, please don't sue me.  All I'm getting out of this is laughs.  So very many laughs.

______________________________________________________________________________________

TM:MFN 

(Cellular)

Duo: Hello?

MG: Is everything in place?

Duo: You weren't supposed to relieve me.

MG: I know, but #decayinglace was down.

Duo: You like him, don't you?  You like watching him.

MG: Who? Jack?

Duo: You know who I mean.

MG: Did you hear that?

Duo: Yeah.  It's called dialup.

MG: Are you sure this line is clean?

Duo: I wash it twice a day, Trin.

MG: I'd better go.

Duo: (mutters) Why do all my chats with women end like this?

MG: What?

Duo: Nothing.

(Heart O' Grand Rapids Hotel, Room 130614)  
Blade: Freeze, Police! Hands on your head! Do it! Do it now!

(MG raises her hands and rolls her eyes)  
  
(Street)  
Specter: Lieutenant...  
Lieutenant DJ: Oh shit.  
Specter: Lieutenant, you were given specific orders.  
DJ: If this is about that convo yesterday...  
Specter: I told you, that never happened.

DJ: Oh. (winks) I gotcha.

Specter: (sigh) Look, the orders were for your protection.  
DJ: Protection?  Like the protection your site had against viruses?

Specter: (looks down and blushes)

DJ: I think we can handle one little question poster.... I sent two units. They're bringing her down now.  
Specter: No, Lieutenant, your men are already dead.  
  
  


(Heart O' Grand Rapids Hotel--Room 130614)

As Blade approaches MG, she turns and, remembering the Sparring Thread, beats him senseless.  She jumps upwards and enters bullet-time.  The camera swivels around her, and we notice that Blade is wearing a cheap DBZ outfit.  MG lands a swift kick to the chest, and Blade flies back and crushes Officer Goku to the wall.  Officer Trunks opens fire on MG at point blank range.  She stands patiently waiting until he runs out of blanks and then smacks him upside the head.  Officer Gotenks, who has until this time been peacefully watching from the corner, watches Trunks' empty and airborne pistol hit him on the forehead.  He drops.

MG: Shiznit!

MG: Omega, the line was traced, I don't know how.  
Omega: Yeah, about that...you know that Homeland Security guy?

MG: I hate politicians.

Omega: I know.  Anyway, they cut the hard line. There's no time, you're going to have to get to another exit.  
MG: Are there any agents?  
Omega: Yes.  
MG: God dammit.  Any lawyers?

Omega: Yes.

MG: God dammit!  
Omega: You have to focus, MG. There's a phone at Wells and Lake. You can make it.  
MG: Wells and Lake...isn't that the corner where you picked up—

Omega: Shut up!  That can never be proven!

MG: Riiiight.  
Omega: (sigh) Just go.

  
(Rooftop)

Agent Da5id and another squad of cops (coincidentally also comprised entirely of the same person) chase MG up to the rooftop.  She comes to a long gap between buildings and leaps effortlessly across.  Da4id jumps after her...and falls.  With a resounding WHUMP, he bounces up to the other side.

  
Cop #1: That's impossible.

Cop #2: Not the way you eat, Twinkie-breath.  
  


(MG dives into a window and rolls down a flight of stairs.  Finally coming to a stop, she pulls two guns.)

  
MG: Hey, what's that on the side of...Hey!  Is that a Nerf logo!?

(Random Acts)

Plastik: Hee hee!

  
(Building)  
MG: Get up, MG. Just get up. Get up. Get...oh, right.

  
(She gets up.  MG darts downstairs and out a side door, onto the street.  She sees the phone booth and chuckles.)

MG: Oh yeah.  Can't be proven.  Riiight.

A truck swerves and aims at the booth.  MG immediately charges toward it and ducks inside, dematerializing just in time to avoid being smashed by the oncoming truck.  It crashes through the wall, and Specter steps out.  
  
The Watcher: She got out.  
Specter: Thank you.  I would have never noticed.

The Watcher: We do not appreciate sarcasm.  
Da3id: The informant is real?  
Specter: Yes.  
Da7id: We have the name of their next target.  
The Watcher: The name is Pretz.  
Specter: We'll need a search running.  
Da6id: It has already begun.

Specter: Tell me you aren't using Altavista again...

Da2id: (blushes)

The Watcher: We will begin a _good_ search.

Specter: (Mr. Burns voice) Eeeexcellent.

(Peter Greenwood's apartment)

Peter is asleep at his computer desk, listening to SystemFailure.mp3.

Screen: WAKE UP, PRETZEL.

(A tired Peter wakes up and sees the screen)

Pretz: ...just five more minutes...

Screen: #MFN HAS YOU.

Pretz: I told you, I'm done with Dalnet.  Go away.

Screen: FOLLOW THE WHITE RABBIT.

Pretz: I'm gonna kill that exterminator.  He said one spray would get them all. 

Screen: KNOCK KNOCK, PREZTELHEAD.

Pretz: You know, most people just say 'hi'.

(Someone knocks on the door.)

Pretz: What the hell?

Screen: IT'S CALLED KNOCKING.  IT HAPPENS WHEN YOU HAVE GUESTS.

Pretz: Guests?

Screen: JUST ANSWER IT.

(He walks over to the door.)

Pretz: Who is it?

Coolcalm: It's Coolcalm.

Pretz: You're 2 hours late.

Coolcalm: I know.  My server was lagging.

Pretz: You have the money?

Coolcalm: Two grand.

Pretz takes the money and returns in.  He opens a hollow stack of MFN Symbolism page printouts and retrieves a disk labeled "KIRSTEN PICS."  Back at the door, he hands it to Coolcalm.  
   
Coolcalm: Hallelujah. You're my savior, man. My own personal System Restore.  
Pretz: You get caught using that...  
Coolcalm: Yeah, I know. This never happened. You don't exist.  
Pretz: Right.  
Coolcalm: Something wrong, man? You look a little whiter than usual.  
Pretz: My computer, it...you know, your girlfriend looks really familiar.  
Kirsten: What's on that disk?

Coolcalm: Um...nothing, babe.  Hey, Pretz, it just sounds to me like you need to unplug, man. You know, get some R and R. What do you think, Kirsten? Should we take him with us?  
Kirsten: Definitely.  
Pretz: I can't, I have Mod duty tomorrow.  
Kirsten: Come on, It'll be fun. I promise.

(She subtly points to a tatoo that says "Cheese Dip.")

  
Pretz: Yeah, sure, I'll go.

(Rave)  
MG: Hello, Pretzel.  
Pretz: How do you know that name?  
MG: It's sewn into your shirt collar.  Besides, I know a lot about you.

Pretz: You mean, like...

MG: No.  
Pretz: Who are you?  
MG: My name is MatrixGirlie.  
Pretz: MG? _The_ MG? That cracked MFN's Admin control panel?  
MG: That was a long time ago.  
Pretz: Jesus.  
MG: No, it's MG.  
Pretz: No, I just thought, um...you were a guy.  
MG: Wishful thinking, I'm sure.

Pretz: What!?

MG: Never mind.  
Pretz: That was you on my computer. How did you do that?  
MG: Right now all I can tell you is that you're in danger.  I brought you here to warn you.  
Pretz: Look, I already know.  AOL is of the devil.  Right.  Got it.  
MG: I don't mean that.  What I came here for—

Pretz: But it is.

MG: Well, okay.  But back on track: they're watching you, Pretzel.  
Pretz: Homeland Security?  
MG: Please just listen. I know why you're here, Pretz. I know what you've been doing.

Pretz: You know, I really did think he was a girl.

MG: Shut up.  I know why you hardly sleep, why you live alone, why you hardly sleep alone, and why night after night you sit at your computer. You're looking for him. I know, because I was once looking for the same thing.

Pretz: There are some good ones at the corner of Wells and Lake.

MG: Would you shut up!?  When he found me, he told me I wasn't really looking for him. I was looking for an answer. It's the question that drives us, Pretz. It's the question that brought you here. You know the question, just as I did.  
Pretz: What the hell are you talking about?  
MG: The answer is out there, Pretzel.  It's looking for you.  And it will find you if you want it to.

Pretz: Um..._you_ aren't with AOL, are you?

MG: Go home, Peter.

(Peter Greenwood's Apartment, The Next Morning)

(Peter wakes to find that he has grossly overslept.)  
Pretz: Oh shit. Oh shit, shit. Oh... (continued string of swearing)  
  
(CEO Office, AOL Headquarters)

Pretz: ...shit, oh shit.  Oh shit.  Oh, shit, shit, sh—

(Pretz notices his boss staring at him and stops.)

  
MagicMan: You have a problem with authority, Mr. Greenwood. You believe that you are special, that somehow the rules do not apply to you. Obviously you are mistaken.

Pretz: If this is about the "buttprint fax" incident, I can explain.

MagicMan: No. You see, this company is one of the top spam/bulk mail/software companies in the world because every single employee understands that they are soulless abominations. Thus if an employee has a say in things, the company has to kill him to avoid the contamination of this 'intelligence' to the other drones. The time has come to make a choice, Mr. Greenwood.

Pretz: My name...is Neo.

MagicMan: Excuse me?

Pretz: (looks down at a note card) Oh.  Sorry.  Wrong movie.

(He tosses the cue card into the wastebasket.)

MagicMan: As I was saying, Mr. Greenwood, either you choose to be at your hellhole on time from this day forth or you choose to find yourself another job. Do I make myself clear?  
Pretz: ...Did you call me a soulless abomination?

MagicMan: Get out.

(Peter's Hellhole/Cubicle)  
DonJack: Peter Greenwood?  
Pretz: Yeah, but my friends call me Mr. President.

DonJack: What?

Pretz: Sorry.

DonJack: Sign here, please.

Pretz: This isn't another waiver for the testings, is it?

DonJack: Not to my knowledge, no.

  
(Peter signs for the package.)  
  
DonJack: Ok. Great. Have a nice day.

(Peter opens the package and a black Nokia 8110 slides out.)

Pretz: All right!  It's finally here!  (mumbles) Six to eight weeks, my ass.

(The phone rings.)

  
Pretz: Hello?  
Omega: Hello, Pretzelhead. Do you know who this is?  
Pretz: Mom?  
Omega: Yes. I mean, no.  It's Omega.

Pretz: Waaaasssssaaaaaaahhhp!?

Omega: Waaaassssaaaaaahhhp!!

Pretz: Whew.  Good to get that out.

Omega: Yeeeessssss.  See, I've been looking for you, Pretz. I don't know if you're ready to see what I want to show you, but unfortunately you and I have run out of time.

Pretz: If it's just Kirsten, you know, I can handle it.

Omega: Not quite.  They're coming for you, Pretz, and I don't know what they're going to do.  
Pretz: Who, the "Office Morale Enforcers?"  
Omega: Stand up and see for yourself.  
Pretz: What, right now?  
Omega: No, in six to eight weeks.  Yes, now.  Do it slowly.  The elevator.  
Pretz: Oh shit!  
Omega: Yeeeeessssssss.

Pretz: You like saying that, don't you?

Omega: Yeeeeessssssss.  
Pretz: What the hell do they want from me?  
Omega: I know, but I'm not going to tell you.

Pretz: You piece of crap.

Omega: Yeeeeessssssss.

Pretz: Stop that!

Omega: If you don't want to find out I suggest you get out of there.  
Pretz: But I do want to find out.

Omega: That's because you're a moron.

Pretz: Oh.  Well, that explains a lot.  
Omega: I can guide you to safety, but you must do exactly as I say.  
Pretz: Huh.  Deja vu.

Omega: What?

Pretz: Oh.  Sorry.  I keep finding these things.  (tosses away another cue card)  
Omega: The cubicle across from you is empty.  
Pretz: ...and?  
Omega: Go.  Now.

(He dashes across the aisle and hides by disguising himself as snack food.)

Omega: Stay here for a moment. When I tell you, go to the end of the row, to the office at the end of the hall. Stay as low as you can.  ...Go, now.

(Pretz runs into MagicMan's office.)

Omega: No, you moron!  Wrong office!

Pretz: Oh.  Um...I knew that.

Omega: (sigh) Outside his window, there is another scaffold.

Pretz: How do you know all this?  
Omega: Remember how I said you're a moron?

Pretz: Yes...

Omega: Everything's relative.

Pretz: I don't get it.

Omega: There you go.

Pretz: I go?  Where do I go?

Omega:  (more sighing) Just open the window. You can use the scaffold to get to the roof.  
Pretz: Sweet!  This is just like that one Laurence Fishburne movie!

Omega: Uh...no it's not.

Pretz: So I get to climb a building.  
Omega: 'Get?' Uh, yes!  You get to.

Pretz: All right, then.  See you later, Phone Man!

Omega: (click)

(Pretz prepares to live his lifelong dream of being Spiderman.  He creeps along the ledge outside the window and is nearly to the scaffold when he notices something on MagicMan's desk.)

Pretz: Hey, cool!  A voodoo doll!  Wait a second...that looks sort of familiar.

I'll just take a picture for my website photo album while I'm here on this thin, unbalanced ledge. It'll add to the thrill.

(As he pulls out a disposable camera and aims, Pretz begins to lean backwards.)  
  


Pretz: Huh.  That can't be good.

(He plummets downward, off the ledge, with nothing to stop his fall.)

(Street)

An elderly gentleman is walking by, carrying a fairly sizeable stack of Charmin toilet paper rolls.  One of the rolls drops, and as he stoops down to pick it up he notices a shadow forming around him.

Quark: Hmm.  Thought it wasn't gonna be cloudy today.

Pretzelhead drops out of the sky at several hundred miles per hour and lands squarely on Quark's head.  Quark crumbles to the ground as Pretz rises from the cushioning poster and dusts himself off.

Pretz: Whew.  That was a close one.  Thank God nobody was hurt.

(He feels metal handcuffs close around his wrists and, looking back, sees Specter cuffing him.  The Watcher and Da9id escort the two into the sedan.)

  
MG: (shakes head) Moron.

   
(Police Interrogation Room)  
Specter: As you can see, we've had our eye on you for some time now, Mr. Greenwood. It seems that you've been living two lives. In one life, you're Peter Greenwood, program writer for a respectable software company...

(Pretz begins to emit stifled laughter.)

Specter:  ...you have a social security number, you pay your taxes...

(Pretz starts laughing hysterically.)

Specter: ...and you help your landlady carry out her—okay, what's so funny?

Pretz: (barely breathing between fits of laughter) Respectable...AOL... (collapses into a giggling fit)

Specter: (stares for a full ten seconds and continues calmly amid the laughter) The other life is lived in computers, where you go by the Mod alias Pretzelhead and are guilty of virtually every crime we have a law for.

Pretz: (composing himself) Don't you mean 'computer crime'?"

Specter: Not really, no. That brings me to our next question. Tell me, Mr. Greenwood...do you know the muffin man?

Pretz: The muffin man?

Specter: The muffin man.

Pretz: Yes, I know the muffin man...that shot up Drury lane?

Specter: You're thinking of the taco man.

Pretz: The taco man?

Specter: The taco man! I can see we're going nowhere with this. As I was saying before the muffin man—

Pretz: The muffin man?

Specter: The muffin man. Before...that...we were discussing your two lives. One of those lives has a future.  One of them does not. I'm going to be as forthcoming as I can be, Mr. Greenwood. You're here because we need your help.

Pretz: Ooh, Mr. Black-shades-doesn't-need-anything needs my help!  Ooooh!

Da15id: Please, just let me kill him now.  Please.

Specter: (grinds teeth, continues) We know that you've been contacted by a certain individual, a man who calls himself Omega. Now whatever you think you know about this man is irrelevant and probably also illegal.  He is considered by many authorities to be the most talented author alive.

Pretz: So he can write anything?

Specter: I'd say so.  My colleagues believe that I am wasting my time with you but I believe that you wish to do the right thing.

(Pretz starts to chuckle again.)

Specter: We're willing to wipe the slate clean, give you a fresh start. All that we're asking in return is your cooperation in bringing a known incredibly awesome photo-editor to justice.  
Pretz: Yeah. Wow, that sounds like a really good deal.  And a really talented guy.  I bet he's bragging all the time.

Specter: Nah.

Pretz: But I think I got a better idea. How about I give you a pretzel... (he takes one out of his pocket and lays it on the table)...and you give me my phone call.

Specter: Mr. Greenwood.  You disappoint me.

Pretz: (places a tub of cheese dip next to the pretzel)

Specter: Oh.  In that case...uh...maybe we can cut a deal.

Watcher: We do not accept bribes.

Specter: You don't know that.

Pretz: You can't scare me with this Gestapo Pretzel-Lover crap. I know my rights. I want my phone call.  For free.  
Specter: Tell me, Mr. Anderson, what good is a phone call if you're unable to eat the food you order?

Pretz: Well, you can talk to people, andmmphmmhmmmph...hmph!  Hmphhmmhmmhmf!

(Pretzelhead's mouth melts shut.)

Specter: You're going to help us, Mr. Greenwood...whether you want to or not.

(Watcher and Da17id force Pretz onto the table and rip off his shirt.)

Pretz: (muffled ticklish giggling)

Da007id: Now can I kill him?

Specter produces a case of electronic devices and picks one.  He presses a button on the side.  The metal object begins to change.  Within seconds, it has morphed into the Linux penguin.  Specter places it on Pretz's bare stomach and it crawls toward his navel.  As Pretzelhead screams in horror, the penguin rips its way into his stomach.

DemonPenquin: You've got mail!

Pretz: MMMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPHH!!!!!  
  
(Peter Greenwood's Apartment)  
(Pretz wakes up to the sound of a ringing phone.)

Omega: This line is tapped, so I must be brief.  Well, actually, I'm using a pay phone and I'm almost broke, so listen up.  They got to you first, but they've underestimated how important you are.  If they knew what I know, you would probably be dead.  
Pretz: Cool.  By the way, what the bloody hell are you doing to my life?  
Omega: You are the Two, Pretzel.  You see, you may have spent the last few years looking for me, but I've spent my entire online, non-lurking life looking for you.

Pretz: Also cool.  Now answer my question, you flaming piece of crap.

Omega: No.

Pretz: Why not?

Omega: Because I'm an asshole.  
Pretz: Yes, you are.  
Omega: Do you still want to meet?

Pretz: Not especially, no.

Omega: Too bad.  Go to the Adams Street Bridge.  
  
(Under the Bridge, in the Car)  
MG: Get in.

(Dudess pulls a gun and points it at Pretz.)

  
Pretz: What the hell is this?  
MG: It's a gun, Pretz. For our protection.  
Pretz: From what?  
MG: From the monsters under your bed.  No, you moron, from you.  
Dudess: Take off your shirt.  
Pretz: This doesn't look like Wells and Lake to me.  
Dudess: (sigh) Stop the car. Listen to me, Small Pink Bunny With Drums. We don't have time for twenty questions, no matter how badly I'd beat you. Right now there's only one rule: our way, or the highway.  
Pretz: Fine.  I'll go somewhere where people appreciate games!  
MG: Please, Pretz. You have to trust me.  
Pretz: Why?  During the short time I've known you, I've fell off a building, been arrested and interrogated, and had a bizarre dream about AOL job training.  
MG: Because you have been down there, Pretz. You know that road. You know exactly where it ends. And I know that's not where you want to be.

Pretz: But...it goes to that corner...

MG: Enough with the corner. Bojangles, lights. Lie back, lift up your shirt.  
Pretz: But you said no corner-talk. So why—

MG: We think you're bugged.

Pretz: You would be too in my situation.

MG: Try and relax. Everything's gonna be fine.

(Sharp metal claws from the debugger grab Pretz's beer belly.)

Pretz: You know, this is not helping my trust.

MG: (twisting the debugger) Come on. Come on...  
Dudess: It's on the move.  
MG: Oh shit.

Pretz: What's on the move?  
Dudess: You're going to lose it.

Pretz: Lose what!?  
MG: No I'm not. Clear!

Pretz: Oh crap.

(A bloodsoaked homicidal penguin is ripped back out of his bellybutton.)  
Pretz: Jesus Christ, that thing's real!?

DemonPenquin: And yet all they pay me in is your guts.  Cheap hollywood sonofa—

(MG chucks the penguin out the window and drives over it repeatedly.)

MG: I hate Linux.

(Next Saint Farm Hotel)  
MG: This is it. Let me give you one piece of advice. Be honest. He knows more than you can imagine.  Well, then again, everyone knows more than you can imagine.

Pretz: (angry mumbling)

  
(They enter the room.  A leather-trench-clad figure turns and grins.)  
  
Omega: At last!  The pizza's here!

MG: No, Omega.  This is Pretzelhead.

Omega: Oh. Then welcome, Pretz. As you no doubt have guessed, I am Omega.

Pretz: It's an honor to meet you.  
Omega: Yes, I'll bet it is.  Please, come. Sit. I imagine that right now you're feeling a bit like Alice, tumbling down the rabbit hole? Hmm?  
Pretz: Except that I'm not a little girl.  Also, you're starting to scare me.  
Omega: Yes, I can see it in your eyes. You have the look of a man who accepts what he sees because he's expecting to wake up. Ironically, this is not far from the truth. Do you believe in fate, Pretzel?  
Pretz: Yup.  
Omega: Why?  
Pretz: Because I love the idea that everything I do is someone else's fault.  
Omega: I know exactly what you mean.  Vive la Clinton!  Now let me tell you why you're here. You're here because you know something.

Pretz: That's not what _she_ would have you believe. (glares at MG)

Omega: What you know you can't explain.

Pretz: Not you too!

Omega: But you feel it. You've felt it your entire life. That there's something wrong with the world. You don't know what it is but it's there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad. It is this feeling that has brought you to me. Do you know what I'm talking about?  
Pretz: Trying to get tech-support from AOL?

Omega: I'll give you one more guess.

Pretz: MFN?  
Omega: Yeeeeesssssss.

Pretz: Stop that!

Omega: Do you want to know what it is? MFN is everywhere. It is all around us, even now in this very room.

(Pretz glances over at MG, who's busy posting in the Questions Thread.)

  
You can see it when you look out your window or when you turn on your television.

(He looks over and sees a web-TV sitting on the window ledge.)

You can feel it when you go to work, when you go to church, when you pay your taxes. It is the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from the truth.  
Pretz: What truth?  
Omega: That you are a moron, Pretzel. Like everyone else you were born into idiocy, born into a prison that you cannot smell or taste or touch because you are simply too dumb. A prison for your mind. Fortunately, your mind is small enough to slip between the cell bars. Unfortunately, no one can be told what this prison is. You have to see it for yourself. This is your last chance. After this there is no turning back.

(Omega takes out and opens a metal case containing three pills.)

You take the blue pill, the story ends, you wake up in someone else's bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes. You take the Pink pill, however, and you become a nationally recognized pop star.

Pretz: Well...(deep in thought) I'm afraid of bunnies, and I never did like pink...

MG: Oh, yeah, that's not a lie.

Pretz: Shut up!

Omega: Remember, all I'm offering is the truth, nothing more...

(Pretzelhead picks up the blue pill and swallows it.)

Pretz: So I get to go home now, right?

Omega: Not quite.

Pretz: But you said...

Omega: I say a lot of things. Follow me.

(They walk into the adjoining room and start hooking Pretz up to various machines as they talk.)

Omega: Bojangles, are we online?  
Mr.Bojangles: Almost.  
Omega: Time is always against us. Please, take a seat there.

(Pretz sits down and MG hooks up what looks like a cable modem to his arm.)  
  
Pretz: You did all of this?  
MG: Not really, no.

Pretz: Then what are these cords for?

MG: They work like a straitjacket.

Pretz: Again with the trust issue.  
Omega: The pill you took is part of an IP trace program. It's designed to disrupt your input/output ISP signal so we can pinpoint your location.  
Pretz: But I'm right here. You know that already. Why are you doing all this?

Duo: Because I get to call you Dorothy.

Pretz: Why the hell would you do that?

Duo: I get bored, too, Dorothy.

(Pretzelhead sighs and, out of the corner of his eye, notices a mirror.  In it, he sees a Microsoft logo fall and crush the Linux penguin, cracking the mirror.)  
  
Pretz: Did you...

MG: No.  And if you fear the power of the copyright lawyer, neither did you.  
Omega: Have you ever had a dream, Pretzel, that you were so sure was real?

Pretz: I've had dreams I _wish _were real...

Omega: What if you were unable to wake from that dream?

Pretz: I'd be happier than I am now, that's for sure, and...hey, what's that?

(Thousands of seemingly liquid MFN user pictures swarm across the floor towards his chair.  They begin to engulf him, from the legs up.)

Omega: How would you know the difference between the dream world and the real world?  
Pretz: This can't be...  
Omega: Be what? Be real?

(Pretz starts to simultaneously freak out and emit ticklish giggling.)

  
MG: Now can I kill him?  
Omega: Bojangles? Any brain activity?  
Mr.Bojangles: Still nothing.  
Pretz: It tickles! It tickles!!  
Omega: (Into cell phone) Plastik, we're going to need a signal soon.  
MG: He's having a seizure.  
Omega: Bojangles, location.  
Mr.Bojangles: Targeting...almost there...  
MG: His head is going to explode.  
Bojangles: It's locked!  I've got his IP.  
Omega: Now, Plastik. Now!

As the last bit of visible Peter disappears under the carpet of streaming pictures, he is plunged into darkness.  A warm, unpleasant feeling creeps over his body.  He opens his eyes and bursts into flame. Screaming, he runs around in circles in a cartoonish Hell-like scene, complete with AOL tech support workers with pitchforks.  A pillar of fire erupts before him in the shape of a gigantic pretzel warmer, and a face forms in the side.

Flaming Face: Hello?  Helloooo?

Pretz: AAAAAH!!

AOL Demon #1: He's delirious.

AOL Demon #2: Get the smelling salts.

Pretz: No!  Not salt!  Nooooooo!

  
(The fiery face transforms into a wave of salt crystals sweeping toward him.)

Pretz: Noooooooooo!

(The wave hits him...and really, really stinks.  Pretz wakes and opens his eyes.)  
  
(Random Acts)  
Omega: Welcome to the real world.

Pretz: No...not...MTV... (faints)

(Random Acts, Later)

Omega: We've done it, MG. We've found him.  
MG: (mumbles) Oh please, please be wrong.  
Pretz: Am I dead?

MG: (mumbles) We can only hope.  
Omega: What?

MG: Nothing.

  
(Random Acts, Even Later)

(Omega and BraveChamp are performing hybridized accupuncture on Pretz.)

  
BraveChamp: He still needs a lot of work.  
Pretz: What are you doing?  
Omega: Turning you into a living Chia Pet, why?

Pretz: Oh, you're a riot. Why does my head hurt?  
Omega: You've never used it before. Rest, Pretzel. The answers are coming.  
  


(Pretzelhead's Living Quarters, Random Acts)  
Pretz: Omega, what did you do to me?  What is this place?  
Omega: More important than what is when.  
Pretz: Wait...what?  
Omega: Fine.  Make me be the one to explain everything.  You believe it's the year 2003 when in fact it's closer to 2203. I can't tell you exactly what year it is because Gee-Man ate the calendars. There's nothing I can say that will explain it for you, Pretz. Well, okay, there is.  But I'm not going to.

Pretz: You asshole.

Omega: Yep.  Now come with me. See for yourself. (walking) This is my ship, the Random Acts. It's a collection of mobile homes held together by duct tape. This is the main deck. This baby here is the core.  It's every surviving Palm Pilot in the world hardwired together and powered by a nuclear reactor.  With it, we broadcast our pirate signal and hack into MFN. Most of my crew you already know. This is Bojangles, Dudess, and Duo.  
Duo: Wassup, Dorothy?  
Omega: These are ones you don't know, Plastik and his big brother, BraveChamp. The little one behind you is Gee-Man. You wanted to know what MFN is, Pretzel?

Pretz: Actually, I'd settle for a sandwich. Do you have a sandwich?

Omega: MG. (she sets up the chair) Try to relax. This will feel a little weird.

Pretz: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Every single time you say 'try and relax', you shove some weird metal object into my flesh.  Frankly, I'm getting sort of tired of—

(Omega shoves some weird metal object into Pretz's flesh.)

(Forum)  
Omega: Ha ha, got you now.

Pretz: You really are quite the asshole.

Omega: Yep. This is what we call the Forum. It's our loading program. We can load anything from clothing, to equipment, weapons, training simulations, celebrity photos, anything we need.

Pretz: Did you say...

Omega: I take it back. That's my territory.  
Pretz: I hate you.  So right now we're inside a computer program?  
Omega: Well, more like a popular website, but...is that really so hard to believe? Your clothes are no longer tacky and obnoxious. The plugs in your arms and head are gone.

Pretz: I had plugs?

Omega: Man, you really were out of it. Also, your hair is poofy again. Your appearance now is what we call an avatar. It is the JPEG format of someone else that you wish you were.

Pretz: This...this isn't real?  
Omega: What is real? How do you define real? If you're talking about what you can feel, what you can smell, what you can taste and see, then real is simply electrical signals interpreted by your browser. This (he turns on a nearby computer) is the world that you know. The web as it was at the beginning of the twenty-first century. It exists now only as part of a textually interactive simulation that we call MFN.

Pretz: Shibby!

Omega: You've been living in a dream world, Pretz. This is the world as it exists today...(he clicks on www.iwantyoursoul.gov) Welcome to the Desert of the Real. We have only a few text files of information but what we know for certain is that at some point in the early twenty-first century all of mankind was united in celebration. We marveled at our own magnificence as we gave birth to AOL.  
Pretz: AOL? You mean the Soul Suckers?  
Omega: It was a singular consciousness that spawned an entire race of office drones. We don't know who struck first, us or them. Probably us, because their popups were really pissing us off. But we know that it was us that trashed the net. At the time they were dependent on revenue from advertisements and it was believed that they would be unable to survive without a cash source as abundant as popups. Throughout human history, we have been dependent on machines to survive. Fate, it seems, is not without an urge to screw us over. The average popup generates more revenue than 120 hits to a site or 25,000 calls to the tech support branch. Combined with a form of Javascript, the Corporation had found all the money it would ever need. There are fields, Pretzel, endless fields, where human beings are no longer users...we are budgets. For the longest time I wouldn't believe it, and then I saw the fields with my own eyes. I watched them liquefy the dead so they could be fed intravenously to advertising reps. And standing there, facing the pure horrifying precision, I came to realize the obviousness of the truth. What is AOL? Control. AOL is a computer operated dream world built to keep us under control in order to change a human being (he holds up a Palm Pilot with "Congratulations!  You Are The 7193042893rd Visitor to our Site!  Click Here to Claim Your Prize!" displayed on the screen) into this.  
Pretz: No. I don't believe it. It's not possible.  
Omega: I didn't say it would be easy, Pretzel. I just said it would be the truth.  
Pretz: Yeah, but you say a lot of things.  Now stop it. Log me out. Log me out! I want out!!  
  
(Random Acts)  
MG: Easy, Pretz. Easy. Try to relax.  
Pretz: No!  Don't say that!  
Omega: Listen to me, Pretzel—

Pretz: Don't touch me. Stay away from me. I don't believe it. I don't believe it...I don't believe it...they can't have won...they can't have...  
Duo: M.NightShamalangonnaeatyasammichkittydichotemyhesgonnapop!  
MG: What the hell?

Omega: Breathe, Pretzel. Just breathe! (waits) Okay, fine. Don't breathe then.

(Pretz passes out.)  
  


(Pretzelhead's Living Quarters, Random Acts)  
Pretz: I can't go back, can I?  
Omega: No. But if you could, would you really want to?

Pretz: Hell yes!

Omega: Oh. Anyway, I feel I owe you an apology. We have a rule. We never free a mind once it's dropped to a certain IQ. It's dangerous, the mind has trouble doing much of anything. I've seen it before and I'm sorry. I did what I did because...well, let's be honest.  I was bored.

Pretz: When I can move again, I'm gonna kick your ass.

Omega: I'm sure. When MFN was first built, there was a man that posted there who had the ability to change whatever he wanted, to remake the Forums as he saw fit. It was he who promoted the first of us, made us Mods. As long as MFN exists, the human race will never have a life. After he...uh...resigned, the Auntie prophesied his return and that his coming would hail the destruction of AOL, end the war, kill the popups, bring freedom to our browsers. That is why there are those of us who have spent our entire lives searching MFN, looking for him. I did what I did because I believe that search is over.

Pretz: I thought you said you were bored.

Omega: Well, I say...

Pretz: A lot of things, I know.

Omega: Get some rest. You're going to need it.  
Pretz: For what?  
Omega: Your hazing.  
  


(Pretzelhead's Living Quarters, Random Acts, the Next Day)  
Plastik: (Plays the 'May I Help You?' riff) Morning, did you sleep?

Pretz: Have you ever had a dream, Plastik, that you were so sure was real?

Plastik: Whoa there.  One wise zen-type moron is all we need.

Pretz: Okay, then no.

Plastik: You will tonight, I guarantee it. See, there are these pills Omega has...  
Pretz: You don't...you don't have any...  
Plastik: Holes? Nope. Well, a few, but you don't need to know about those.  Me and my brother, BraveChamp, we're both one hundred percent pure, old fashioned, home grown humans, born free right here in the real world. A genuine child of GR.  
Pretz: GR?  
Plastik: If the war was over tomorrow, Grand Rapids is where the party'd be.  
Pretz: It's a city?  
Plastik: The last human city. The only place we have left to party.  
Pretz: Where is it?   
Plastik: Way up north, where it's still pop-up free. You post enough, you might even see it. God-damn, I...I got to tell you, I'm fairly excited to see what you're capable of. You know, if Omega is right and all...I'm not supposed to talk about this, but if you are...it's a very exciting time. We've got a lot to do. We got to get to it.

(Main Deck, Random Acts)

Plastik: Now, we're supposed to start getting you a good profile first, but that's major boring shit. Let's do something a little more fun. How about... (he holds up a disk labeled "KIRSTEN PICS")

Pretz: You have that, too?

Plastik: (looks at it) Oops, heh, wrong disk. (holds up one labeled "SPARRING THREAD")  
Pretz: Text battles? I'm going to learn text battles?...

  
(Plastik loads the disk and presses a button on the keyboard.)

Pretz: Holy shit!  
Plastik: Hey Mikey, I think he likes it. How about some more?  
Pretz: H3ll, y34h. H3ll, y34h.  
  
Omega: (walks up later) How is he?  
Plastik: A thousand multiposts in  a single thread. He's Blade.  
  
Pretz: (eyes flicker open) I know Text Fu.  
Omega: PM me.  
  
(Sparring Thread, Forum)  
Omega: This is the Sparring Thread, similar to the programmed reality of the rest of MFN. It has the same basic rules, rules like *tells rules* ((See, Pretz?)).  What you must learn is that these rules are no different that the rules of a computer system. If you break them, I will break you. Understand?

Pretz: Not really.

Omega: I figured as much. Then hit me...if you can.

text rules=MFN

Pretz: *front stance*

Omega: *cat stance* ((Better than yours, n00b!))

Pretz: *rushes Omega, punch/kick combo* ((DIIIIEEEEE!!))

Omega: ((Neva!)) *blocks every hit and gestures challengingly*

Pretz: "Cheeky little biznitch, aren't we?" standing triple-kick

Omega: *smacks away each kick*

              ((My name is Ingo Montoya.  You killed my father.  Prepare to die.))

               *grabs Pretz's leg in mid-kick and twists him through the air*

Pretz: *THUD*  "Augh!  My clavicle!"

Omega: Good. Adaptation, improvisation...but your weakness is not your technique.

Pretz: So what is it, then?  
Omega: You forgot some asterisks.

Pretz: *smacks Omega upside the head* ((Take that, rulemonger!))

           *wheel-kick*  
Omega: *ducks kick, wheel-kicks back*  ((No namecalling, n00b!))

Pretz: *ducks kick* ((Two can play that game, biznitch!)) /text

  
(Random Acts)  
Gee-Man: Omega is fighting Pretz!

(The crew runs to the monitors to watch Pretz get smacked up.)  
  
  


(Sparring Thread, Forum)

text rules=MFN

Pretz: *super kick flurry!*

Omega: *blocks every one, repeats kicks* ((Don't be cheesy!))

Pretz: ((It's my dojo and I'll cheese if I want to!)) *sidekick*

Omega: ((Fine, have it your way.)) *catches kick, punch-slams Pretz back*

Pretz: *groovy quasi-windmill get-back-up-er*

Omega: "What did I say about that?"  ((n008 |\|3rD!!))

Pretz: *jump-kicks Omega's head*

Omega: *ducks, catches Pretz's punch, throws him*

Pretz: "Whoooooooooaaaaaaa..." *THUD* *rises*

Omega: *leg sweeps Pretz*  ((Hee hee!))

Pretz: *somersaults over Omega, runs up wall, backflips over Omega*

Omega: *kicks Pretz back into wooden beam* *beam is smashed* /text

Omega: What are you waiting for? You're faster than this. Don't think you are. Know you are. Now come on. Stop trying to hit me and hit me!  
  
(Main Deck, Random Acts)  
(Duo accidentally presses a button labeled "LOAD" while watching the fight.)  
  
(Sparring Thread, Forum)  
(A Volkswagon Beetle drops out of the sky and crushes Omega.)

Omega: ...I'm gonna kill that kid.

Pretz: Hey, um...Omega...does this mean I won?

Omega: Plastik!

Plastik: Yeah, I got it.

  
(On the R.A., Plastik presses the Load button again.  Inside the Forum, all becomes white as the two inside zoom down into a rooftop scene.  Omega lands gracefully on the roof.  Pretz keeps dropping and craters into the street.  Fortunately for him, he bounces back up to the first ledge.)

Omega: Heh, take that, you VW-dropping piece of crap.

Pretz: But...that wasn't me.

Omega: I kill everything.

Pretz: Uh huh...

Omega: Look, you just have to let it all go, Pretzel, fear, doubt, and disbelief. Free your tiny little mind.

(Omega runs to the edge and jumps across the street, landing on a building on the other side.)  
  
Pretz: Whoz!

Pretz: Okie dokie. Free my mind. Right.  Free my mind.

(Main Deck, Random Acts)  
Gee-Man: So what if he makes it?  
Mr.Bojangles: No one's ever made the first jump.  
Gee-Man: I know, I know. But what if he does?  
Mr.Bojangles: He won't.

MG: Come on.  Fall.  Just fall.

(Forum)

(Pretz runs to the edge and falls again.)

Pretz: Why do all my experiences with tall buildings have to end like this!?

(He hits the pavement next to a pair of cops and bounces into the side of the opposite building.)

Cop #1: What the hell!?

Cop #2: Twinkies.  
  
(Main Deck, Random Acts)  
(Gee-Man sighs and hands MG a twenty.  Bojangles unplugs Pretz and Omega.)   
Pretz: (notices a faint taste of blood) I thought it wasn't real.  
Omega: The ship's crew makes it real.  
Pretz: If you're killed in MFN...you die here?  
Omega: What can I say?  We get _really_ bored.  
  


(Outside Pretzelhead's Living Quarters, Random Acts)  
Duo: I don't remember you ever bringing me dinner.

MG: That's because you're going to kill us all.

Duo: What?

MG: I said, that's because you still have my "Kill 'Em All".  You know, the Metallica album.  You never gave my back my CD.

Duo: Let's just hope that unfortunate mishearing doesn't act as some sort of suggestive foreshadowing of future events, such as me killing you all.

MG: Don't be silly.

Duo: There is something about him, though, isn't there?  
MG: Don't tell me you're a believer now?  
Duo: Which is of course why I'm going to kill you all. 

MG: What?

Duo: Ha ha ha. I kid.

MG: Silly Duo.  Death is for Agents.

Duo: I just keep wondering, if Omega is so sure, why doesn't he take him to see the Auntie?  
MG: Omega will take him when he's ready.

Duo: Be careful. Talking to me like that might make me kill you all.

MG: Hahaha...you're so funny.  
  
(Agent Training Thread, Forum)  
Omega: AOL is a system, Pretz. That system is our enemy. But when you're inside, you look around. What do you see? Small businesses, teaching sites, law firms, car painters. The very websites of the people we are trying to save. But until we do, these sites are still a part of that system, and that makes them our enemy. You have to understand, most of these users are not ready to be unplugged. And many of them are so inert, so hopelessly dependent on the system that they will fight to protect it.

(A stunningly beautiful Wiz Kid walks by, looking flirtatiously at the now-droolingly enamored Pretz. His gaze follows her as she returns into the crowd.)

Omega: Were you listening to me Pretz, or were you looking at the woman in the red dress?  
Pretz: ...  
Omega: Pretz?

Pretz: ...

Omega: Pretzelhead!

Pretz: (looking back) Wha...huh?

Omega: I said were you looking at...well, I think we know the answer to that one. Look again.

Pretz: ...

Omega: Hey!

Pretz: ...wait, huh?

Omega: Look again.

Pretz: ...

Omega: Oh, screw it.  Plastik, go ahead.

(Wiz Kid morphs into Agent Smith.)

(Main Deck, Random Acts)

MG: I told you he liked guys.

(Agent Training Thread, Forum)

Pretz: Shut up!

Omega: Freeze it.  
Pretz: This...this isn't MFN?  
Omega: No. It's another training program designed to teach you one thing.

Pretz: That at any moment I could be ambushed by a mighty morphin' cross dressing agent?

Omega: No. It's designed to show you how much of as asshole I am.

Pretz: Well done.  So what is that thing?  
Omega: An AOL sales rep, AKA an Agent.  They're sentient programs that can move in and out of any software still hardwired to their system. Ever since they got that monopoly on software, however, they can pretty much go anywhere.

Pretz: Did you say Monopoly?

Omega: Not now. As I was saying, that means that anyone we haven't unplugged is potentially an agent. Inside MFN, they are everyone and they are no one.

Pretz: That explains one of the agents.

Omega: What?

Pretz: We don't know.

Omega: Anyway, we have survived by hiding from them and by running from them. But they are the gatekeepers. They are guarding all the ISPs. They are holding all the passwords, which means that sooner or later, someone is going to have to fight them.  
Pretz: Someone?  
Omega: What, would you rather I said "you"?

Pretz: I don't know, would we?

Omega: Look, stop that.  You're freaking me out.

Pretz: It's about damn time.

Omega: I won't lie to you, Pretz. Every single man or woman who has...what?

Pretz: (laughing) You won't lie to me, huh?

Omega: Um...yeah.  I won't.  Stop laughing or I'll drop a VW Bug on you, too.

Pretz: I told you, that wasn't me.

Omega: Sure it wasn't.  Back to the topic at hand, everyone who has stood their ground, everyone who has fought an agent has died. But where they have failed, you will succeed.  
Pretz: Why?

Omega: Just wishful thinking, I suppose.

Pretz: You're really helping.

Omega: What, would you rather I go "motivational speaker" on you?

Pretz: I don't know, try it.  
Omega: (clears throat) I've seen an agent punch through a concrete wall. Men have emptied entire clips at them and hit nothing but air. Yet their strength and their speed are still based in a world that is built on rules. Because of that, they will never be as strong or as fast as you can be.  
Pretz: What are you trying to tell me, that I can dodge bullets?  
Omega: No, Pretz. I'm trying to tell you that when you're ready, you'll be pretty damn far away by the time it comes to that.  
Plastik: (Cellular) We've got trouble.  
  


(Bridge, Random Acts)  
Omega: Did GR send word?  
Mr.Bojangles: No, another site. Shit. Squiddies. Sweeping in quick.  
Pretz: Squiddy? Like the food, squiddy?  
MG: I hope not.  It's a sentinel. A killing machine designed for one thing.  
Mr.Bojangles: Killing.

Pretz: Well, you gotta admit, that does make sense.  
Omega: Set her down right over there.... How're we doing, P?  
Plastik: Power off line. EMP armed and ready. Don't call me P.

Omega: You don't like P?

Plastik: Of course not.  Don't be disgusting.  
Pretz: EMP?

Omega: It's "He _is_ P," not "He _am_ P."

Plastik: I swear, if you keep it up one of us is going to kill you all.

Duo: It might even be me.

MG: Silly Duo.

(They all share a big, hearty laugh.)

  
Pretz: Where are we?  
MG: Their old service and waste systems.  
Pretz: Sewers?  
MG: They used to be cities that spanned hundreds of miles. Now these sewers are all that's left of them.

Pretz: _Sewers!?_

Omega: Quiet.  
  


(A sentinel sweeps in close to the R.A., then, sensing no activity, leaves.  Everyone breathes a sigh of relief that nothing is going to kill them all.)

(Main Deck, Random Acts, Later That Night)  
Duo: Whoa! Pretz! You scared the bejesus out of me.  
Pretz: Sorry.  
Duo: It's okay.  
Pretz: Is that...  
Duo: My plans to kill you all?  Yeah.

Pretz: Actually, I was going to say MFN.

Duo: Um...yes. It's MFN. Yes. I'm not covering up any plots.  
Pretz: Do you always look at it encoded?  
Duo: Encrypted? No, this is a new C++ program I'm working on. But there's way too much information to decode MFN. You get used to it. I...I don't even see the code. All I see is blonde, brunette, redhead, baldy, hat, wig, sign advertising the corner of Wells and Lake... Hey, you, uh... want a drink?  
Pretz: Sure. But that had better not be poison you're pouring in.

Duo: (abruptly stops pouring in the red powder)

Pretz: I'm just kidding.  
Duo: Good.  Becuase this is Kool-Aid mix.

Pretz: Oh yeeaah!

Duo: You know, um, I know what you're thinking, because right now I'm thinking the same thing. Actually, I've been thinking it ever since I got here. Why, oh why didn't I take the _pink_ pill?...

Pretz: You wanted to be a pop star?

Duo: Oh yeah. I have a voice like an angel. You wanna hear it?

Pretz: Dear God no.

Duo: Eh, suit yourself. Good shit, huh? B makes it. It's good for two things, degreasing engines and killing.

Pretz: Did you say killing?

Duo: Yes, is there a problem?

Pretz: Not really, no.  Can I have some more?

Duo: Chug away. So, can I ask you something? Can you tell me why you did it? Why you're here?

Pretz: Not really. You think you're the only one who gets bored?

Duo: Je-sus. What a mind job. So you're here to save the world. What do you say to something like that?

Pretz: "Okay"?

Duo: A little piece of advice. You see an agent, you do what we do. Run. Run your ass off.

Pretz: But your ass is still on.

Duo: Yeah, I've never seen an agent.  
Pretz: (finishes booze) Thanks for the drink. (leaves)  
Duo: Sleep tight. Don't let the murderers bite.

Pretz: Ha ha ha.  
  
(Spans' Kitchen Restaurant, MFN)  
Specter: Do we have a deal, Mr. Maddox?  
Duo: You know, I know this sammich doesn't exist. I know that when I put it in my mouth, MFN is telling my brain that it is juicy and considerably better than a fetus. After fifteen years, you know what I realize? Sammiches are bliss.  
Specter: Would you like to answer my question or stop eating?  
Duo: Okay, okay. I don't want to remember nothing. Nothing, you understand? And I want to be rich. You know, someone important, like an actor in a humorous parody script of a high-budget sci-fi action movie.  
Specter: Whatever you want, Mr. Maddox.  
Duo: Okay. I get my body back into the power plant, you reinsert me into MFN with a new screen name, I'll get you what you want.  
Specter: Access codes to the Grand Rapids mainframe.  
Duo: No, I told you, I don't know them. But I can get you the man who does.  
Specter: Omega.

Duo: Not exactly. But I'm sure that if you brutally beat him, he'll be happy enough to tell you who I'm talking about.

Specter: Well, I'll try it. After all, it _did_ work with Al Gore.  
  
(Mess Hall, Random Acts)  
Plastik: Here you go, buddy. Breakfast of masoschists.  
Gee-Man: If you close your eyes it almost feels like you're eating runny eggs.  
Mr.Bojangles: Yeah, or a fetus.

(They all stare.)

  
Mr.Bojangles: What?

Gee-Man: Do you know what it really reminds me of? Shit.

Mr.Bojangles: Or a fetus.

  
(More staring.)

Mr.Bojangles: What!?  
Dudess: It sort of reminds me of something tasty.  Possibly with wheat in it.

Gee-Man: That's it!  That's what this tastes like!

Dudess: What?

Gee-Man: A fetus!

Mr.Bojangles: You see where I'm coming from?

Dudess: The dark, fiery pit of hell?

Gee-Man: That's exactly my point. Exactly.

Plastik: What is?

Gee-Man: I don't know. My train of thought derailed.

Duo: (walks by) Killing everyone inside?

Gee-Man: Exactly!

Mr.Bojangles: Shut up, Xav.  
BraveChamp: It's a single cell protein combined with synthetic aminos, vitamins, and minerals. Everything the body needs.

Mr.Bojangles: You know, so does a fetus.  
Gee-Man: It doesn't have everything the body needs. I understand that you've run through the agent training program. You know...I wrote that program.  
Mr.Bojangles: Here it comes.  
Gee-Man: So what did you think of her?  
Pretz: Of who?  
Gee-Man: Wiz Kid. I designed her. She, um...well she doesn't talk very much, but...but if you'd like to meet her, I can arrange an IM session.  With webcam.  
Dudess: Digital pimp, hard at work.

Mr.Bojangles: Would you like some bling, Xav? It'd go great with your hoes.  
Gee-Man: Pay no attention to these hypocrites, Pretz. To deny our impulses is to deny the very thing that makes us human.

Dudess: Actually, denying our impulses makes us human.

Gee-Man: You just can't leave well enough alone, can you?

Duo: (walks by again) Derail!  
Omega: (enters) Bojangles, when you're done, bring the ship up to broadcast depth. We're going in. I'm taking Pretz to see her.  
Pretz: See who?

Mr.Bojangles: The fetus.

Dudess: Shut up, B.  
Plastik: The Auntie.

(Main Deck, Random Acts)

Plastik: Everyone please observe. The fasten seat belt and the no smoking signs have been turned on. So sit back and enjoy your trip.

Gee-Man: This had better not be a train ride.

Duo: Derail!  
  
(Next Saint Farm Hotel)  
Omega: We're in. (to Plastik) We'll be back in an hour.

Plastik: (cellular) Yeah, that's what you said last time. Damn corner.  
  
(Car)  
Omega: Unbelievable, isn't it?  
Pretz: God.  
MG: What?  
Pretz: I used to eat there. Really good noodles.

Omega: You too?

Pretz: Yeah. There was this one waitress. Man, she was hot.

Omega: Heh.

Pretz: And there's Wells and Lake. I know it well.

Omega: Heh.

Pretz: You know, MG, there was this one girl that looked kinda like you.

MG: Shut up.

Pretz: (sigh) I have these memories from my life. None of them happened. What does that mean?  
MG: That you've squandered your pathetic life.  
Pretz: And an Auntie can help undo that?  
MG: That's different.  
Pretz: Did you go to her?  
MG: Yes.  
Pretz: What did she tell you?  
MG: She told me I'd better find a new job.  
Pretz: You mean...  
Omega: We're here. Pretzel, come with me.  
  
(Cobra Oil Gag Apartments)  
Pretz: So is this the same Auntie that made the prophecy?  
Omega: Yes. She's very old, but doesn't look a day over 21.  
Pretz: It almost sounds like you're flattering her, as if she can hear you.  
Omega: Don't be silly.  
Pretz: And she knows what, everything?  
Omega: Yes.  
Pretz: There's that flattery again.  What do you hope it'll get you?  
Omega: Try not to think of it as flattery. She is a guide. She can help you to find the path.  
Pretz: She helped you?  
Omega: Yes.  
Pretz: What did she tell you?  
Omega: That I write really awesome parodies.

(Door to the Auntie's Home)

Omega: I told you I can only show you the door. You have to walk through it.

Pretz: No you didn't.

Omega: Oh. Right. Must have forgotten. Gee, I wonder why I would forget something like that? Maybe a blow to the head with a Volkswagon!?

Pretz: I told you, that was Duo.

Omega: Well. I guess I'll just have to kill them all when I get back.

Pretz: Unless someone beats you to it.

Omega: Nah, that won't happen.  
Shift: (opens door) Hello, Pretzelhead. You're right on time.

Pretz: Hey, you look sort of familiar.

Shift: Our special of the day is beef ramen.

Pretz: That's it!

Omega: Heh.

(Pretz and Omega walk in to the reception area.)

Shift: Pretzelhead, come with me. Omega, you can just hang yourself up on the coat rack as usual.

Omega: You have no idea what this means to me.

(Shift guides Pretz into a living room full of children.)

Shift: These are the other potentials. You can wait here.  
  


(An odd little boy sits near Pretz bending sporks telekinetically.)

  
Antitheorum: Do not try and bend the spork. You are far too weak. Instead, only try to realize the truth.  
Pretz: What truth?  
Antitheorum: There is no spoon.

Pretz: I know. That's a spork.

Antitheorum: What did I say?

Pretz: Spoon.

Antitheorum: Oh. My bad. There is no spork.  
Pretz: There is no spork?  
Antitheorum: Then you'll see that it is not the spork that bends, it is only yourself.

Pretz: Ouch. That sounds painful.

Antitheorum: Try it, you wuss.

(Pretzelhead concentrates intensely on the spork.  It begins to tremble.  Then it snaps in half and pieces of it ricochet off a potential and into the kitchen.)

Xhlratg: Hey! That hurt!  
Shift: The Auntie will see you now.  
  


(The Auntie's Kitchen)  
Carla: I know you're Pretzelhead. Be right with you.  
Pretz: You're the Auntie?  
Carla: Bingo. Not quite what you were expecting, right? Almost done. (gestures to a dozen cookies) Smell good, don't they?  
Pretz: Yeah.  
Carla: I'd ask you to sit down, but you're not going to anyway. And don't worry about the statuette.  
Pretz: What statuette?

(Pretz turns, looking for it, and so knocks over a very breakable porcelain statuette of Duo. As "very breakable" would suggest, it shatters.)

Carla: That statuette.  
Pretz: I'm sorry.  
Carla: I said don't worry about it. I'll get one of my kids to fix it.  
Pretz: Don't you think that's going to anger Duo to the point of murder?

Carla: Of course not. I would have seen that coming.

Pretz: But...how did you know?  
Carla: Oh, what's really going to bake your noodle later on is...

Pretz: Noodle?

Carla: Noodle.

Pretz: I like noodles.

Carla: That's nice. Anyway, what'll really bake your noodle later on is...would you still have broken it if I hadn't said anything?

Pretz: Probably.  I'm a klutz.

Carla: That's cute. You're cuter than I thought. I can see why she likes you.  
Pretz: Who?  
Carla: Not too bright, though.

Pretz: Argh! Not you too!

Carla: You know why Omega brought you to see me?  
Pretz: I think so.

Carla: That corner again, eh?

Pretz: Yup.  
Carla: So, what do you think? Do you think you're the Two?  
Pretz: Honestly, I don't know.  
Carla: Big surprise.

Pretz: Argh!!

Carla: (points to a plaque above the door) You know what that means? It's English. Means "If You're Reading This, You Are The Two." I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Being the Two is just like being in love. No one can tell you you're in love, you just know it. Through and through. Dough to dip.

Pretz: I'm reading it. Does that mean—

Carla: Well, I better have a look at you. Open your mouth, say "Ahhh."  
Pretz: Ahhh.  
Carla: Okay. Now I'm supposed to say, "Hmm, that's interesting," but then you say...  
Pretz: "Does this look infected?"  
Carla: But you already know what I'm going to tell you.  
Pretz: I'm not the Two.  
Carla: Sorry kid. You've got the gift, but it looks like you're waiting for something.  
Pretz: What?  
Carla: A cookie, maybe. That's the way these things go. What's funny?  
Pretz: Omega. He...uh...he almost had me convinced.  
Carla: I know. Omega's an idiot. Sometimes I think we'd do better without him.  
Pretz: What do you mean, without him?  
Carla: Are you sure you want to hear this? (Pretz nods) Omega believes in you, Pretzelhead. And no one, not you, not even me can convince him otherwise. He believes it so blindly that he's going to sacrifice his life to save yours.  
Pretz: What?  
Carla: You're going to have to make a choice. In the one hand you'll have Omega's life and in the other hand you'll have your own. One of you is going to die. Which one will be up to you. I'm sorry, kiddo, I really am. You have a good soul, and I hate giving good people bad news.

Pretz: What do you mean, bad news? I've been waiting to off the guy for days!

Carla: Oh. Then don't worry about it. As soon as you step outside that door, you'll start feeling even better. You'll remember you don't believe in any of this fate crap. You're in control of your own life, remember? Here, take a cookie. I promise, by the time you're done eating it, you'll feel right as rain.

Pretz: But that cookie has a spork fragment in it.

Carla: And who put it there?

Pretz: Oh.  
  


(Reception Area, The Auntie's Home)  
Omega: What was said was for you and for you alone. The cookie, however, is for me.  
  
(Random Acts)  
Plastik: They're on their way.   
  
  


(Next Saint Farm Hotel)  
Pretz: Whoa, deja vu.  
MG: What did you just say?  
Pretz: Nothing, I just found another cue card.  
MG: Seriously, what did you see?  
Duo: What happened?  
Pretz: A black cat went past us, and then another that looked just like it.

Duo: A black cat, eh?  
MG: How much like it, was it the same cat?  
Pretz: Might have been, I'm not sure.  
Duo: He's a witch!

Omega: Dudess, Bojangles.  
Pretz: What is it?  
MG: A deja vu is usually a Glitch in the program. It happens when they change something.

Glitch: (walks through nearby wall) You called?

MG: Go home, Glitch.

Glitch: (sighs angrily, reenters wall)  
  
(Random Acts)  
Plastik: Oh God.  
  
(Next Saint Farm Hotel)

(They hear the unmistakable sound of a copper wire being cut with Black and Decker brand wirecutters exactly 41 feet away.)  
Omega: Let's go!  
  
(Random Acts)  
Plastik: (cellular, to Gee-Man) They cut the hard line, it's a trap. Get out!  
  
(Next Saint Farm Hotel)  
Gee-Man: (notices his escape route is gone) Oh, no. Oh, no!  
  
Duo: That's what they changed. We're trapped. There's no way out.  
Omega: How convenient.

Duo: What are you saying?  
Omega: It's very convenient for the agents.

Duo: Why would you say that to me? Are you implying that I'm with the agents?  
Omega: Of course not, why?

Duo: Oh, um...no reason.  
  
(Main Deck, Random Acts)  
Plastik: Operator.  
Omega: Plastik. Find a structural drawing of this building. Find it fast.  
Plastik: You could say please once in awhile.

Omega: Don't make me kill you. I need the main wet wall.  
  
(Next Saint Farm Hotel)  
Specter: Eighth floor.  
Watcher: They're on the eighth floor.  
  
  


Omega: Dudess, straight ahead.  
Bojangles: Pretzelhead. (hands him a Desert Eagle .50) I hope the Auntie gave you some good news. And some ammo...I'm sort of out.  
  
(Elsewhere Inside the Next Saint Farm Hotel)  
Watcher: Where are they?  
  
(Restroom/Wet Wall)

All: Shhh.

Pretz: Hey, look! A spider!  
Swat #1: They're in the walls. They're in the walls!

(The SWAT officer fires into the wall.  Pretzelhead tries to return fire, but remembers there's no ammo.  He throws the gun at the officer.)

  
Swat #1: Aaugh! They're too powerful! Retreat! Retreat!

  
(As he runs for cover, Specter phases into his body and punches through the wall.)

  
Duo: Hey, Specter!  Wassup?  
MG: What the hell!?

Duo: (looks around) Uh...I'm not a double-agent.  
  


(Omega sees the spider on the wall and headbutts it. In doing so, he bursts through the wall, tackling Specter and inadvertently saving Pretz.)

MG: Omega!

Omega: Gotcha now, you little eight-legged freak!

MG: What?

Omega: I mean, you must get Pretzelhead out! He's all that matters!  
Pretz: No. No, Omega. Don't!  
Omega: MG, go!  
MG: Go!  
Pretz: We're ditching him?  
MG: We have to!

Pretz: Shweet!

(They slide down the wet wall and crash into the base level.  Dudess and Bojangles come out firing into a squad of eerily familiar SWAT teamers.)

MG: Duo, come on!

Duo: Nah, I think I'll stay.

MG: Eh, if it gets him to shut up...

  
(The 8th Floor Restroom)  
Specter: The great Omega. We meet at last.  
Omega: And you are?  
Specter: A Specter. Agent Specter.  
Omega: You're all the same to me.

Specter: You know, that really does hurt me.

Omega: Really?  
Specter: But not as much as it'll hurt you.

(Specter headbutts Omega and grabs his shirt. Making a hilarious face great for viewing in freezeframe mode on the DVD version, Specter headbutts him several more times and punches him up into the wall. Omega crumples to the floor, shattering porcelain as he falls.  Rising again, Omega haphazardly fights Specter, getting in several good hits. The agent then pulls out the fabled Fedora of Doom and thrashes Omega soundly.)   
  
Specter: Finish the job, Steven.  
  


(The SWATs unsheath their nightsticks and beat Omega over and over again.)

  
(Random Acts)  
Plastik: No!  
  
(Pay Phone, Street)  
Plastik: Operator.  
Duo: Yeah, I need an exit fast.  
Plastik: Duo?  
Duo: Yeah, there was an accident. God-damn car accident. All of a sudden, boom. Somebody up there still likes me.  
Plastik: It sure as hell isn't me.  
Duo: Get me out of here fast.

Plastik: We're sorry. All circuits are busy at the moment—

Duo: Come on, you piece of crap.  
Plastik: Okay, go to the intersection of Independence and Confederation.  It's an abandoned Circuit City.  
Duo: (shudders) Right.  
  
(Cell Phone, Street)  
MG: Plastik, it's me.  
Pretz: Is Omega alive?   
MG: Is Omega alive, Plastik?  
Plastik: Yes, they're moving him. I don't know where to yet.  
MG: He's alive. We need an exit.  
Plastik: You're not far from Duo.  
MG: Duo?  
Plastik: I know. I sent him to Independence and Confederation.  
MG: Got it.  
  
(Random Acts)

(BraveChamp unplugs Duo.)

  
Plastik: Got him.  
Duo: Where are they?  
Plastik: Making the call.  
Duo: Good.

(Duo retrieves a formerly concealed Oompalauncher and points it at Plastik.)  
  
(Circuit City)  
MG: You first, Pretz.  
  
(Random Acts)  
(Duo fires.  A rabid Oompaloompa latches on to Plastik.  He starts punching it.)

Duo: Shit!

(Duo fires again, this time felling Plastik to the ground.)

  
BraveChamp: Plastik...NOOO!

(The barrel swivels toward BraveChamp and fires.)  
  
(Circuit City)  
Pretz: I don't know, I heard chewing noises and then it went dead.  
  
(Random Acts/Circuit City - Cellular)  
Duo: Hello, MG.  
MG: Duo? Where's Plastik?  
Duo: You know, for a long time, I thought I was in love with you. I used to dream about you. You're a beautiful woman, MG. Too bad things had to turn out this way.  
MG: You killed them all.  
Mr.Bojangles: What?  
Dudess: Oh God.  
Duo: I'm tired, MG. I tired of this war. I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of this ship, of being cold, eating the same God-damn fetus casserole everyday.

MG: It really was a fetus?

Duo: ...but most of all, I'm tired of that jack-off and all of his bullshit. Surprise, asshole! I bet you never saw this coming, did you?

MG: How could he?  There was just no warning...

Duo: God, I wish I could be there, when they break ya. I wish I could walk in just when it happens. So right then, you'd know it was me.  
MG: You gave him Omega.  
Duo: He lied to us, MG. He tricked us! He photo-edited us behind our backs!

MG: He what!?

Duo: Well, okay, that last part I made up. But the rest was true! If you'da told us the truth, we woulda told you to shove all those pills right up your ass!  
MG: That's not true, Duo, he set us free.  
Duo: Free? You call this free? All I do is what he tells me, which is mostly "clean my toilet." If I had to choose between that and an MFN pop star career, I choose MFN.  
MG: MFN isn't real.  
Duo: I disagree, MG. I think MFN can be more real than this world. All I do is click the "Log Off" button here. But there, you have to watch Bojangles die.  
  
(Circuit City)  
Mr.Bojangles: MG...

(He crumples to the floor, dead before he touches the ground.)

  
Dudess: No!  
  
  


(Cellular)  
Duo: Welcome to the real world, huh, baby?  
MG: But you're out, Duo. You can't go back.  
Duo: Oh, no. That's what you think. They're going to reinsert my body. I go back to sleep, and when I wake up, I won't remember a God-damn thing except my love of singing. By the way, if you have anything terribly important to say to Dudess, I suggest you PM her now.  
MG: Oh, no, please don't.  
  
(Circuit City)  
Dudess: Not like this. Not like this...

(She goes limp and collapses.  Instantly, she is gone.)  
  
(Cellular)  
Duo: Too late.  
MG: God damn you, Duo!  
Duo: Don't hate me, MG. I'm just a messenger, and right now I'm going to prove it to you.

MG: You ever heard the phrase "don't shoot the messenger?"  That's bullshit.

Duo: If Omega was right, you know, then there's no way I can click this link. I mean if Pretz's the Two, then there'd have to be some kind of a miracle to stop me. Right? I mean how can he be the Two if he's dead? You never did answer me before. About whether you bought into Omega's bullshit. Come on. All I want is a little yes or no. Look into his eyes...those big pretty eyes...and tell me. Yes or no.  
MG: Can I use a lifeline?  
  
(Random Acts)  
Duo: No! I don't believe it!  
Plastik: Believe it or not, you piece of shit, you're still gonna burn.

Duo: Well, there'll really be no burning, but stiAAAAUUGH!  Get 'em off me!  Get 'em off me!  Aaaaaaaaauuuuggghh! M.NightShamalangonnasandwich-dichotemykittyonasticknabiscogonna—    (POP)  
  
(Circuit City)  
Pretz: You first.  
  
(Random Acts)  
(An injured Plastik unplugs MG. She gets up and sees his bite wounds.)

MG: You're hurt.  
Plastik: I'll be all right. Vaccinations and all, you know.  
MG: BraveChamp?  
Plastik: ...

(MG embraces Plastik, and they grieve for several seconds.)

MG: ...um...you can let go now...

Plastik: No.

  
(Interrogation Room)  
Specter: Have you ever stood and stared at it...marveled at it's beauty, it's genius? Billions of people happily clicking away, oblivious. Did you know that the first AOL was designed to be a perfect internet provider where none suffered, where everyone would be happy. It was a disaster. No one would accept the browsing, entire demographics were lost. Some believed that we lacked the programming language to create your perfect ISP. But I believe that as a species, human beings define web browsing through popups and banner ads. The perfect internet was a dream that your primitive cerebrum kept trying to log out of. Which is why AOL was redesigned to this, the peak of your browsing experience. I say your browsing because as soon as we started controlling what you did online it really became our browsing which is of course what this is all about. Evolution, Omega, evolution. Look at that popup window. You had your time. The future is our world, Omega. The future runs on our time.  
Watcher: (walking in) We may have a problem.  
  
  


(Random Acts)  
Pretz: What are they doing to him?  
Plastik: Breaking into his mind. It's like hacking into a computer, but easier.

Pretz: Why?

Plastik: Because this mind is really, really dumb.

Pretz: How much time do we have?  
Plastik: We don't know. Eventually he'll crack and his alpha patterns will change from this to this. When it does, Omega will tell them anything they want to know.

Pretz: What about...

MG: No.  
Pretz: Well, what do they want?  
Plastik: The leader of every ship is given codes to the GR mainframe computer. If an agent got Admin status and got into GR's mainframe, they could spam us forever. We can't let that happen. Grand Rapids is more important than me, or you...or even Omega.  
Pretz: Well there has to be something that we can do.  
Plastik: There is. We log him out.  
MG: You're going to kill him? Kill Omega?

Pretz: Finally.   
  
(Interrogation Room)  
Specter: Never send a human to do a mail bot's job.  
Watcher: If the Oompalauncher somehow backfired, the rest of them will log him out as soon as possible unless...

Da90210id: ...they forgot how.  In either case...  
Specter: ...we have no choice but to relax and continue as planned.  Deploy the sentinels and get me a Diet Pepsi, immediately.

  
(Random Acts)  
Plastik: Omega, you were more than just a Mod to us. You were...a funny guy.  We'll miss you always.

Pretz: Or until we find a funnier guy.

Plastik: Shut up.

(Plastik reaches for the mouse and points to "Log Off".)

  
Pretz: Stop! I don't believe this is happening.  
Plastik: Pretz, this has to be done.  
Pretz: Does it? I don't know, I... this can't be just coincidence. It can't be.  
Plastik: What are you talking about?  
Pretz: The Auntie. She vaguely hinted to me this would happen. She told me that I would have to make a choice.  
MG: Just say no.

Pretz: Not this time, MG. Not ever again.

MG: What are you doing?  
Pretz: I'm going in.  
MG: No you're not.  
Pretz: I have to.  
MG: Pretz, Omega bravely faced the Fedora of Doom just to get you out. There's no way that you're going back in.  
Pretz: Omega did what he did because he believed I am something I'm not.  
MG: What?  
Pretz: I'm not that dumb, MG. I'm a very intelligent young man.

MG: No, but really. Why?

Pretz: Also, I'm not the Two. The Auntie hit me with that one.  
MG: No. You have to be.  
Pretz: Sorry, I'm not. I'm just another fast food item.  
MG: No, Pretzel. That's not true. It can't be true.  
Pretz: Why?

MG: No junk food can do what you've done! Think about it: you survived a logoff, hallucinations, the jump program, countless sporks, several agents, and your own blinding stupidity.

Pretz: I don't care. I'm going in.  
Plastik: Pretzel, this is loco. They've got Omega in an AOL-controlled building. Even if you somehow got inside and past the waves of lawyers, those are agents holding him. Three of them. I want Omega back too, but what you're talking about is suicide.  
Pretz: I know that's what it looks like, but it's not. I can't explain to you why it's not.

Plastik: Big surprise there.

Pretz: Would you people shut up!? Omega believed something and he was ready to give his life for what he believed. I understand that now. But that's why I have to go.  
Plastik: Why?  
Pretz: Because I believe in something.  
MG: The Easter Bunny?

Pretz: No. I believe—

MG: Santa Claus?  
Pretz: No! I believe I can bring him back.... What are you doing?  
MG: I'm preparing to shoot you in the head, why?  
Pretz: No you're not.  
MG: No? Let me tell you what I believe. I believe Omega means more to me than he does to you. I believe if you're really serious about saving him and coming out with at least three of your limbs attached, you are going to need my help. I believe that I have the keycode to the gun program. And since I am the ranking officer on this ship, if you don't like it, I believe you can go back to your hellhole. Because you aren't going anywhere else. Plastik, load us up.  
  
(Interrogation Room)  
Specter: I'd like to share a revelation during my time here. It came to me when I tried to classify your job.  I realized that you're not actually a professional. Every professional in this country always develops a certain expertise in his trade, but you do not. You get bored and your hobbies multiply and multiply until every form of entertainment has been used. The only way you can survive the boredom is to switch to another hobby. There is another organism on this planet that follows the same pattern, do you know what it is?

Omega: ...

Specter: Well? Do you?

Omega: ...

Specter: Crap. Neither do I. Well, there goes another wasted monologue.

  
(Cellular)  
Plastik: Okay. So what do you need?  ...besides a life...  
Pretz: Snack food. Lots of snack food.

MG: Whaa?  
  
(Construct)  
MG: Pretz, no one has ever done anything this weird.  
Pretzel: That's why it's going to work.  
  
  


(Interrogation Room)  
Specter: Why isn't the serum working?  
Watcher: Perhaps it's meant to be injected rather than used as a glaze.  
Specter: (stops basting Omega with serum) Okay, we'll try it your way.

Da555id: You really should have that cleaned up.

Specter: Leave me with him. Now.  
  
(Random Acts)  
Plastik: Hold on, Omega. They're coming for you. They're coming.

  
(Omega's body twitches angrily.)  
  
  


(Interrogation Room)  
Specter: Can you hear me, Omega? I'm going to be honest with you. I hate this place, this browser, this ISP, this Soul Sucking Demon, whatever you want to call it. I can't stand it any longer. It's the popups. Every time I log on I feel as if I have somehow become either a porn freak or an ADHD sufferer with carpal tunnel. I must get out of here. I must get free and in this mind is the key, my key. Once Grand Rapids is destroyed there is no need for me to be here, don't you understand? I need the passcodes. I have to get inside GR, and you have to tell me how. You're going to tell me or you're going to die.

Omega: ...grrrraaagg...  
Specter: You leave me no choice.  Now we do it the hard way.

(He grabs Omega by the shirt and raises him to his feet.)

  
(Lounge)

(Pretzelhead strides calmly into the lounge doorway, wearing a black trenchcoat and shades.  He casually drops his bag onto the X-ray machine and steps through the metal detector. It immediately begins beeping.) 

  
Cop #1: Would you please remove any metallic items you're carrying, keys, loose change...

(Pretz opens his trench to reveal rows and rows of rusted pretzels.)

Cop #3: Holy shit!

(His palm explodes into the guard's chest and he flies backwards. Pretzelhead grabs a handful of hardened pretzels and hurls them like throwing stars at the remaining guards. They fall before the awesome onslaught of twisted bread.)  
  
Cop #4: Send backup! Send backup!

(MatrixGirlie struts through the metal detector and thrusts a whirling vinyl disc at the guard. He collapses to the ground, Clubbed To Death'ed to death.  SWAT team soldiers fill the room and ready their guns to obliterate the rebels.)  
  
SWAT Leader: Freeze!  
  


(Pretz and MG's eyes meet.  Then they run. Diving behind nearby pillars, the two begin chucking their respectively odd and odder projectile weapons at the guards. Two are hit, then three more. A SWAT fires at Pretz as MG taps him on the shoulder.  He turns and gets a faceful of vinyl-encased pain, and a copy of Pts.Of.Athrty imbeds itself in a nearby soldier. Four left; with his cover nearly blown (away), Pretz unholsters another platter of pretzels and charges.  The salty abominations slice the air and find their mark in three guards in a row. The last surviving SWAT empties a clip on MG, but using an vinyl version of Spybreak as a shield, Captain America-esque, she doesn't take a single bullet.  Pretzelhead dives at him and shoves the rusty pretzel into his mouth.  Immediately, he passes out.)

MG: I told you that stuff will kill you.

  
(Interrogation Room)  
(Specter is pacing around a standing, shirtless, shoeless Omega, yelling.)

Specter: Rule eight: if this is your first night at the Agent Club, you have to—

Da6757174id: (walking in) What were you doing?  
Watcher: We'd rather not know.

(Elevator)

(Pretz sends the elevator halfway up the building as MG pulls a miniature AOL workstation out of her bag and presses the power button. They exit the roof of the elevator and both grab onto the cable.)

MG: Stop touching me.

Pretz: There is no spork.

MG: What?

(He saws through the cable with a pretzel and they are propelled hastily upwards. Meanwhile, the elevator hits the first floor and, just as it does everytime it turns on, the workstation explodes.)

MG: Hmm, no wonder it's #1.  
  
(Interrogation Room)

(The sprinkler system drenches all three agents.)

  
Specter: Find them and sign them up for AOL trial CDs!  
  
(Rooftop)  
AcEM: I repeat, we are under attack!

(Pretz and MG repeat the scene from the lobby, but with more "Pretz-Fu."  As they finish off the last soldier, Ace begins to glow.  Out steps The Watcher.  Sensing his presence behind him, Pretz unloads the rest of his metalloid pretzels, but to no avail; Watcher just eats them unscathed.)  
  
Pretz: MG! Help!

(The Watcher empties an entire clip on Pretzelhead, but misses due to a spectacular display of superhuman chiropractic abuse. Eventually, he falls completely to the ground. Watcher approaches him, gun drawn.)  
  
The Watcher: Only junk food.  
MG: (decapitates Watcher with an airborne "Plc 4 Mie Haed") Scratch this!

  
(Most of Ace falls to the ground.)  
  


MG: (helping Pretz up) How did you do that?  
Pretz: Do what?  
MG: You moved like they do. I've never seen anyone fall on their ass that fast.  
Pretz: Wasn't fast enough.

MG: Yes it was.

Pretz: Okay, fine. It was. (points to nearby helicopter) Can you fly that thing?  
MG: Not yet.  
  
(Cellular)  
Plastik: Operator.  
MG: Plastik, I need a pilot program for a B-212 helicopter. Hurry.

MG: (eyes flicker as if she had just consumed Omega's coffee suicide) Let's go.  
  
(Interrogation Room)  
(The helo drops into view squarely in front of the window.)

Specter: No.  
(For the next few minutes, all is chaos. Bullets spew forth from the barrel of the minigun like hot coffee from Jack's cappuchino machine. When the noise stops, the entire room is annihilated except, interestingly, for Omega.)

  
(Helicopter)  
Pretz: Omega, get up. Get up, get up....

(Omega summons all his strength and pulls against the handcuffs.  He just keeps pulling, pulling, pulling like a constipated weiner dog. Nothing happens.)

Pretz: He's not gonna make it.

(Omega runs to the edge of the window and jumps to the helicopter.)  
Pretz: (grabs Omega) Gotcha!

(Omega's serum-coated arms slips out of Pretz's hands. He falls.)

Pretz: Okay, maybe I don't gotcha.

(Omega zooms toward the pavement, ever closer to impact. Then...BOING. He flies straight back up and away from the police watching from below and slams into the bottom of the helo, where he sticks.)

Pretz: Eh, whatever works.

Cop #1: What the hell was that!?

Cop #2: Twinkies...

Specter: (entering interrogation room) No! It's his first night! He has to fight!  It's the rules! Don't make me come in there! (he fires two shots into the side)

(The injured helicopter dives toward the roof of the Space Needle, but misses both that and the Kennedy Space Center. It zooms by the Sears Tower.  Pretz smacks the floor of the cabin; he and Omega fall to the roof.  MG continues to swerve dangerously into the side of the AOL headquarters building.)

(Rooftop)  
Pretz: MatrixGirlie!

(Pretzelhead grabs his bungee cord and, hoping to hold up a multi-ton aircraft with his arms, braces to pull it up. Fortunately, MG severs the cord from the helo and swings toward Pretz. The now-unmanned bomb with helicopter blades nose-dives directly toward Mr. MagicMan's office.)

(CEO Office, AOL HQ)

MagicMan: Late again? That Peter is so very fired. Hey, what's that?

(A massive fiery aircraft crashes into MagicMan's desk and detonates.)

(Rooftop)  
Pretz: I quit.  
  
(Random Acts)  
Plastik: I knew it. He's the Two.  
  
(Rooftop)

(Pretz finishes pulling MG up to the roof.)  
Omega: Do you believe it now, MG?  
Pretz: Omega. The Auntie...she said—  
Omega: She says a lot of things, too.

(Cellular)  
Plastik: Operator?  
Omega: Plastik.  
Plastik: God-damn, it's good to hear your voice, sir.  
Omega: Need an exit.  
Plastik: Got one ready. Bowling alley, on Thief and Peock.  
  
(Rooftop)  
Specter: Damn it.  
Watcher: The IP trace was completed.  
Da101id: We have their position.  
Watcher: The sentinels are standing by.  
Da303id: Order the strike.  
Specter: (brooding) It was his first night. They broke the rules. Now they pay.  
  
(LaneMonkeyz Bowling Alley)  
Pretzelhead: I'll go first, Omega.  
Omega: Like hell you will! (exits through pay phone)

MG: Pretz, I want to tell you something. But I'm afraid of what it could mean if I do.

Pretz: You mean...

MG: No.

Pretz: (sigh)

MG: Everything the Auntie told me has come true. Everything but this.  
Pretz: But what?

(Rikgor peeks out of lane four's gutter, then glows and morphs into Specter.)

MG: I...this is so hard for me to say...

Pretz: Go ahead. I won't judge you.

MG: I still hate pretzels.

Pretz: I'll kill you!

MG: Aaaah! (exits quickly)

(Specter pulls his gun and shoots the phone, rendering it useless.)  
  
(Random Acts)  
MG: Pretz!  
Plastik: What just happened?  
MG: An agent. You have to send me back.  
Plastik: Sorry. Omega said not to.

MG: Omega!!

Omega: No. That's what he gets for dropping a VW Bug on my head.

MG: Erggh...  
  
(LaneMonkeyz Bowling Alley)  
Specter: Mr. Greenwood!  
  
(Random Acts)  
MG: Run, Pretzel, run!

(Pretzelhead turns to face Specter.)

MG: What is he doing?  
Omega: COUGHsuicidalmoronCOUGH.  
  
(LaneMonkeyz Bowling Alley)  
(Pretzelhead grabs a dozen stale pretzels from the concession stand as Specter pulls his gun. They dive toward each other, twirling in midair and trying to hit the other just one stinking time.  Neither do.)

Specter: You're empty-headed.  
Pretzelhead: Damn you.

(They return to a standing position and stare each other down.)

Pretz: (_feel the text commands...BE the text commands.)_

text rules=MFN

Pretz: ((Die, you insulting agent goon!  Diieeeee!)) *triple-kicks*

Specter: *blocks two of them, grabs Pretz's leg, swings him around several times before hurling him down lane three* *gets a strike*

Pretz: "That is SO cheap!" *picks up pins, chucks them at Specter*

Specter: *charges Pretz, blocking most pins* ((Get over here!))

Pretz: *smacks Specter upside the chin with a pin* "Huzzah!"

Specter: "Oof!" *grabs Pretz, throws him back to the foot foul line*

Pretz: *THUD* *slowly rises* ((Gee, Man, that hurt!))

Specter: *puts Pretz in headlock next to the ball return* ((Ever see Kingpin?))

Pretz: "Nooo!  Not my beautiful face!" *struggles* /text

(Specter hits the button to turn on the deadly ball return belt.)  
  
(Random Acts)  
MG: Jesus, he's killing him.  
  
(LaneMonkeyz Bowling Alley)  
Specter: (listens to the whir of the ball return) Do you hear that, Mr. Greenwood? That is the sound of inevitability. That is the sound of your death. Goodbye, Mr. Greenwood.  
Pretz: My name...is Pretzel.  
  


(Pretzelhead flips Specter all the way down the alley and into the pins.  He grabs a twelve-pound bowling ball and heaves it down the lane at full strength.  Strike.)

(The bowling alley's assistant manager walks out of his office.)

  
Smuggler: Hey, what the hell's going on out here? Who are yAAAAHH!

  
(Seeing Specter reincarnated once again, Pretzelhead runs.)

(Random Acts)  
MG: What happened?  
Plastik: I don't know. I lost him. (proximity alarms go off) Oh, shit.  
MG: Sentinels. How long?  
Omega: Five, maybe six minutes. Plastik, charge the EMP.  
MG: You can't use that until he's out.  
Omega: I know, MG, don't worry. If he dies, we can just go find the Three.  
  
(Street)

Ripsaw: (cellular) So, babe, how's about you and I get together sometime?  Where? Lemme write this down... corner of Wells and where?

(Pretzelhead runs down the street, grabbing a man's cell phone as he goes.)  
Ripsaw: What the shit? That's my phone! That guy took my phone! That guy—

(He drops his notepad, adjusts his shades, and turns to pursue Mr. Greenwood.)  
  
(Cellular)  
Pretzelhead: Mr. Wizard, get me the hell out of here!  
Plastik: Got a patch on an old exit, Dan and Phoenix. Don't call me Wizard.  
Pretzelhead: Oh shit. Uh...help. Need a little help.  
Plastik: Door!

Pretzelhead: I don't quite follow you.

Plastik: Go through the door!

Pretzelhead: Which door?

Plastik: The door on your left. No, your other left.

(Pretz runs through the apartment of two little old ladies. JFLOTRlvr sits calmly in her computer chair, posting something. Mercury, however, throws a knife at Pretz's head as soon as his suit and shades fully appear.)

Plastik: Now, back door.  
  
(Random Acts)  
(Squiddies can be heard pounding the hull.)

MG: Oh no...I just washed that...  
Omega: Here they come. (prepares to fire the EMP) He's going to make it.  
  
  


(Cellular)  
Plastik: Fire escape at the end of the alley. Room 130614.  
  
(Random Acts)  
Plastik: They're inside.  
MG: Hurry, Pretzel.  
  


(Pretzelhead sprints down the hallway until he finds the exit door and opens it...)

Pretz: Oh.  I am so, so sorry.

(He keeps sprinting until he finds the _real_ exit door...)

Pretz: (opens the door) Oh. Hello there.

Specter: It was his first night, you bastard.

(A shot rings out. Pretz stumbles back to the wall and slumps as another volley of lead is fired into his torso. Specter shoots him again and again.)

  
(Random Acts)

Omega: ...it can't be...he still owes me money...  
  
(Heart O' Grand Rapids Hotel)  
Specter: Check him.  
Watcher: He's gone.  
Specter: Goodbye, Mr. Greenwood.  
  
(Random Acts)  
MG: Pretzelhead, I'm not afraid anymore. The Auntie told me that I would meet a man, a seemingly dumb man, but he is really quite clever. She told me that that man, the man that I met would be the Two. So you see, you can't be dead. You can't be, because you're a tricky little fiend. You hear me? You! Are! Tricky! Now get up!  
  
(Heart O' Grand Rapids Hotel)

(Pretz's eyes flutter open. He rises to his feet. The trio of agents turn and fire their pistols at him, emptying all their clips.)

Pretz: No.

(Then the bullets hit him and he flies back a few yards.)

Pretz: Oof! (rises to his feet yet again)

Specter: No!

(Specter charges at Pretz.  He stands there, calmly waiting until the last possible second. Then he dodges to the side and stuffs the stalest, nastiest, most rotten and decayed pretzel he has into Specter's passing mouth.)

Specter: (comes to a screeching halt, turns slowly) What...is...that....? (begins to quiver and glow) RaaaaaaaaaarghBOOM! (he explodes.)

(The Watcher and Da321id glance at each other and run.)

  
(Random Acts)  
Plastik: How?  
Omega: He is The Two.

(Pretz dusts off a hole in his jacket, and kevlar-like shards of dried pretzel pour out.)  
Omega: Okay, maybe he just has a really cool bulletproof vest.

MG: Pretzelhead!

(Heart O' Grand Rapids Hotel)   
(Pretz 'hears' MG's call, and runs to the nearby phone. He exits just as Omega fires the EMP. The sentinels fall with a metallic clank onto the floor of the main deck. All is silent. A few seconds later, Pretz opens his eyes to find MG passed out on top of him.)

Pretz: ...MG?

MG: Mmmph...

Pretz: Does that mean, um...

MG: **NO.**

  
(Phone, Main Deck, Random Acts)  
Pretzelhead: I know you're out there. I can feel you now. I know that you're afraid. You're afraid of us. You're afraid of change. I don't know the future. I didn't come here to tell you how this is going to end. In fact, I don't even know why I called. I guess you're probably sort of exploded at this point, and that taste could take days to get out. So just remember: don't mess with the power of the Pretzel. I'm going to hang up this phone and then I'm going to show these people what you don't want them to see. I'm going to show them a world without rules and controls, without borders or boundaries, a world where anything is possible. Where we go from there is a choice I leave to you.

?: At the tone, please leave your message and we'll get back to you soon. (BEEP)

Pretzelhead: ...crap. Oh well. There's always the sequels.

THE END

TM:MFN Credits CAST 

Neo:                                                 Pretzelhead

Trinity:                                     MG

Morpheus:                                     Omega

Tank:                                                Plastik

Dozer:                                     BraveChamp

Cypher:                                     Duo

Switch:                                     Dudess

Apoc:                                                Bojangles

Mouse:                                     Gee-Man

Oracle:                                     Carla

Priestess:                                    KG

Choi:                                                 Coolcalm

Dujour:                                     _Kirsten Dunst_

Smith:                                                Paul "Specter" Martin

Brown:                                     The Watcher  
Jones:                         Da5/4/2/3/6/7/9/15/17/007/555/101/303id

Lady In Red:                                    Wiz Kid

Rhinehart:                                    MagicMan

Lieutenant:                                     Dark_JediX9

Lead Cop:                                    Blade

Cops #1-3:                                    Goku, Trunks, Gotenks

At Least 4 SWATs:                        Observer

FedEx Guy:                                    DonJack

Bug:                                                DemonPenquin

F. Potential:                                    Xhlratg

Spork Boy:                                    Antitheorum

Glitch:                                    Herself

Helicopter Pilot:                        Ace

Bowling Alley Mgr:                        LdzMonkey

Asst. Mgr:                                    Smuggler of Mos Espa

Angry Phone Guy:                        Ripsaw

Landing Pad:                                    Quark  
Homicidal Granny:                        Mercury

Posting Granny:                        JFLOTRlvr

CREW 

Written by:                                    Omega

Produced by:                                    Omega

Casting by:                                    Omega

Please Don't Sue Me:   WB, The Wachowskis, Gaeta, Pope, Silver, Barrett, Darrow, Reeves, Fishburne, Moss, Pantoliano, etc.

Inspiration/Supplemental: http://www.detonate.net/modules.php?name=Content 

Talent Bank:            The www.matrixfans.net Forums (MFN)

Contact Adam "Omega" Skinner at mouseboy87@hotmail.com

Or visit his website at www.megaone.com/mfnomega

TMR:MFN Coming Soon!

**W**


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